


Don't Call Me Chief

by ultragirlvfr750



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultragirlvfr750/pseuds/ultragirlvfr750
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson finds herself inexplicably entwined with Detective Julio Sanchez.  Tequila is involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Call Me Chief

**Author's Note:**

> This is set firmly in The Closer Universe. Season Three-ish. It's AU because for the purposes of this fic Brenda is not married. There is no way I could ever see Julio Sanchez choosing to be with a married woman so I just had to eliminate Fritz in order to write this story. 
> 
> Basically Julio.Brenda is a side ship that has suddenly gotten completely out of control. Thanks Amanda. You're a buddy. This is my first attempt at writing anything that is not femslash. Please be kind to my mistakes. As usual notes are love.

Prologue:

“I thought you said we were goin’ for a ride, not standin’ around all day fiddlin’ with a bunch of tools,” Brenda said petulantly, worrying the end of one of her curls between her teeth.  
Julio didn’t turn from where he was hunkered down in front of his bike, the muscles across his shoulders flexing as he tightened down on a wrench.

“Old bikes like his one need attention,” he grunted, pulling down harder, “same as a woman. If you want to get anywhere you can’t rush, Chief.”

He turned and looked at her then with that mischievous grin she’d seen so often play across his face in the murder room. Brenda shivered and took an involuntary step toward him.

“Julio, do you think for today you might possibly stop callin’ me Chief?”

She suddenly felt awkward, standing in his garage amongst his tools, the smell of grease and bike exhaust wafting around her.

“I can try, M’am,” he cocked an eyebrow and stood up in one fluid motion to lean over and rev the engine.

Brenda bit her lower lip. Her nostrils flared as she gazed, mesmerized, as his black t-shirt rode up, exposing the hard planes of his lower back. Brenda swallowed, her throat suddenly dry as she remembered the feel of his skin under her fingertips and how his hips had coiled beneath her.

“M’am’s even worse,” she shouted, trying unsuccessfully to compete with the racket from the open pipe on the motorcycle.

This time he didn’t turn around and she gave up then and simply surrendered to the indulgence of watching him work. Unencumbered by his persona as the lumbering enforcer in her murder room he moved with confidence and a balletic grace that Brenda wouldn’t have thought possible. 

But then he’d done a number of things with her lately that she’d never have thought were possible.

It started as a complete accident. At least that’s what Brenda was telling herself.

1.

Priority Homicide had wrapped up a particularly gruesome triple murder. Gang related and an 8 year old latino girl had been caught in the crossfire. It had been gruelling for Julio, who had the difficult task of going with her to do the notification with the girls’ parents, translating for Brenda, dealing with their grief while trying to hold back his own. It never got any easier witnessing the shattering of a family’s life and Brenda’s heart ached for her detective as he tried to soothe the girl’s shell-shocked parents without making promises about catching the bastards who shot her.  
Promises that he knew he might not be able to keep.

When they finally did make an arrest Brenda had been smart enough not to allow him in the interview room, wisely choosing instead to bring in Andy Flynn, while she got her confession.

Julio fought her on it and she couldn’t blame him. He’d charged into her office after she’d had Flynn get the suspect settled in Interview Two. Eyes flashing, he was bristling with barely contained rage.

“Just give me a run at him, Chief,” his fists were clenched at his sides and Brenda moved to him, gently laying her hand on his arm, feeling the explosive tension even through his shirt sleeve.

“You’ve done enough, Detective,” she had soothed, unconsciously rubbing her thumb back and forth along his arm, “You even managed to arrest him without beatin’ him senseless.”

Julio hadn’t moved but his eyes, darker than hers, had lost some of their rage and she kept her hand on his arm. “Julio, go. Sit with Buzz in electronics. Trust me I’m not leavin’ that room until I get a confession.”

He had leaned forward then and Brenda could smell the anger on him, mixed with sweat and the spicy scent of his cologne and she’d felt a strange tingling at the base of her spine.

Looking back on that moment Brenda should have seen it for what it was. A warning of the storm that was coming.

The suspect didn’t even put up a fight. Brenda hadn’t even needed to resort to her usual, casual Southern charm. The story fell out of his mouth the moment she sat down. If only all her confessions came so easily.

The entire squad had gone out to celebrate, but instead of filling up the back end of Malloy’s like they usually did Brenda found herself sandwiched between Provenza and Flynn at a tiny table in the Mexican style bar owned by their young victim’s parents. They’d reached out to Julio, explaining to him that they wanted to show their gratitude to Brenda and her team for bringing their daughter’s killer to justice. No amount of hospitality was ever going to bring their child back but at least for the evening as much tequila as Priority Homicide could drink was on the house.

Brenda settled for nursing a glass of merlot, determined not to get tipsy in front of her entire squad and had watched her team with an indulgent smile. Lieutenant’s Provenza and Flynn were in fine form as usual, the banter flowing between them and Tao was regaling a rather bored looking Irene Daniels with every agonizing detail on his computer grid search. Gabriel kept stealing glances at her and Brenda had chuckled to herself, wondering how long it would be before the two of them politely excused themselves. They would leave separately of course, but they weren’t fooling anyone.

As the evening came to a close Brenda realized she’d barely even had a chance to talk with Detective Sanchez, who had been the lynchpin in solving the case in the first place.  
He was sitting alone at the bar, his suit jacket slung on the stool next to him and as Brenda approached she could see there was nothing celebratory about his mood. He was brooding over an untouched shot of tequila.

She touched his shoulder, lightly as she shimmied herself onto the stool next to him. She almost slipped and his hand shot out to steady her and she felt heat radiating off his palm. Inexplicably, her stomach did another one of its flip flops and she tossed her hair, trying to push the feeling aside.

“For someone who helped give these parents some measure of peace, today, you don’t look like you’re in the celebratin’ mood, Detective,” Brenda tried to keep her tone light.

Julio had raised his head and Brenda had to suppress her instinctive urge to reach out and touch his face in comfort.

The pain in his eyes was immense.

“Those two,” he gestured beyond the bar, “Consuela was their only child,” his voice was low and Brenda had to move closer to hear him. “They tried for years to have a baby and when she came they were so proud. They were working to make sure they could give her everything they never had. Do you even understand what that means, Chief?”

His voice had broken then and Brenda did reach out and cover his hand with her own. 

“Julio, I wish that what we did today could bring her back. I really do,” Brenda replied earnestly trying to catch his gaze, “It can’t. I know it can’t.” she tipped his chin upward with her index finger. “Look at me. But I want you to be proud of what you did. Because of you, Consuela’s parents will sleep better knowin’ that you got justice for their little girl.”

“Will they Chief,” Julio asked. “Do you think they really care?”

“Yes, I do, Detective.” Brenda answered. “And if you won’t celebrate with us will you at least drink a toast? For you? For a job well done? For her?”

Julio straightened up and faced Brenda, his dark eyes unreadable. 

“For her,” he replied slowly. “What about you? Will you have a drink with me, M’am?”

It was an oddly formal question and Brenda stuttered momentarily, her hand flying to the side of her head to pull at her curls.

“Of course, Detective,” she felt herself blushing and she hastily motioned to Consuela’s father at the end of the bar. “I’ll have another glass of merlot…”

Before she could finish ordering Julio waved her off.

“Carlos, dos tequila, por favor. Partida Elegante”

“Tequila?” her eyes widened as Carlos placed two shots of clear liquid in front of her and Julio. “I think the last time I had tequila I was in college, but I don’t have a real clear recollection of that evenin’ I’m afraid.”

“That’s because you were probably drinking that rot-gut Cuevro shit.” Julio replied. “Partida Elegante is one of the best tequila’s you’ll ever drink.” He leaned in and for an instant she was  
suddenly sure he was going to kiss her and she parted her lips slightly. 

At the last moment he tipped his head to the side and whispered in her ear.

“Carlos wouldn’t even sell this. I promise you, Chief, it’s a beautiful thing.”

Brenda exhaled shakily and turned back to the bar. She picked up the shot glass and caught a whiff of an almost smokey aroma. She raised her drink, clinking the rim of the glass against Julio’s  
and then knocked the shot back.

The alcohol was indeed smokey, and smooth around the edges but it carried a bite and Brenda gasped as she slammed the shot glass back down on the bar.

Julio was staring at her, horrified.

“No, Chief!” his voice sounded strangled. “You don’t knock back Partida Elegante, M’am. You sip it. Like this,” he picked up his own glass and took just a tiny sip, rolling the tequila around in his mouth, savouring the taste.

Brenda’s tongue darted out of her mouth and she unconsciously licked her upper lip.

“Well you coulda told me, Julio,” she huffed.

The detective waved Carlos back over and motioned for him to pour another shot.

“Try again, Chief.” he commanded, his eyes dancing with humour. 

At least he was looking happier, Brenda had thought. Even if it was at the expense of her ignorance. 

She picked up the glass for the second time, this time taking a delicate sip, mirroring her detective. She closed her eyes, holding the liquor in her mouth revelling in it’s acrid but sweet taste. 

She swallowed reflexively and opened her eyes. Julio was staring intently at her over the rim of his own shot glass. He slowly took another sip, his eyes never leaving hers.

Brenda stared back, propped her elbow on the bar and tilted her head until her chin rested in her upturned palm. The tequila on top of the merlot she’d had earlier in the evening was making her muzzy headed. The part of her that was still sober made the judgement that she was sitting far to close to her subordinate than was all together appropriate.

“This’s amazin’,” she realized in horror that she was slurring slightly.

“What did I tell you, Chief,” Julio replied and poured her another shot.

She ran her fingertip around the rim of the glass trying vainly to clear her head. Looking around the dimly lit bar she realized that at some point the others had all gone home and that she was alone, drinking tequila, with Julio Sanchez. 

This had not been the plan when she left the murder room with her squad earlier in the evening but for the life of her, at that moment, Brenda couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“You feelin’ better, Julio?” Brenda realized she’d stopped using his title at some point after she’d downed her first shot. “I hope watchin’ the boss make a mess of the art of drinkin’ top shelf tequila has been at least somewhat amusin’..”

“I would never laugh at you, Chief,” his voice deadly serious. “And if anyone ever tries I’ll break their arm.” 

He said this last statement with such ferocity that Brenda wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She dropped her eyes, cursing the heat she felt flush her face and she hoped the light in the bar was dim enough to hide that he’d made her blush.

Her eyes fell to his hands. He was twisting the thin, gold wedding band that was ever present on his ring finger.

“What was she like?” the tequila emboldening her to question him about the one thing she’d never been brave enough to ask. “Your wife?”

“My wife,” he mused.

Brenda held her breath, silence between them.

“We grew up together. We were never apart,” he said by way of an answer.

“I’m sorry Julio, I shouldn’t have asked,” Brenda quickly replied. “I know it’s not something you talk about.”

“It’s ok, Chief. It’s been a long time,” he looked at her trying to smile but failing as he poured her yet another shot.

Brenda sipped at it very slowly and realized she seemed incapable of looking anywhere but at him.

“Her face isn’t clear to me anymore. Even when I close my eyes. But there was a time when we were kids. She wasn’t any older than their daughter,” Julio jerked his head behind him at Carlos and his wife quietly cleaning up after the squad. “We were in this ugly, broken down baseball field. You know the ones the latino’s get to play on. And suddenly she was surrounded by butterflies. They came out of nowhere, Chief. They all just,” he searched for the words, “floated around her. She held her hands out and some of them landed in her palms.”

He stopped, clearing is throat with a guttural sound. Brenda fought against the tears threatening behind her eyes.

“And she smiled. The look of wonder on her face, that’s when I knew, M’am.”

“Knew what?” Brenda asked softly.

“That I was going to marry her.”

“You know what’s strange, Chief,” he went on relentlessly, “even though I can’t picture her face anymore I can still see her standing there under all those butterflies. I think I might be able to see that forever.”

Julio broke his own rule and downed his shot of tequila and then reached over and took Brenda’s hand in a crushing grip.

“Oh Julio,” Brenda breathed. “You must miss her.”

“The worst part, M’am, I can go a whole week, now, without thinking of her at all.”

His eyes filled with tears and he got up abruptly. 

“Excuse me, Chief.”

In one motion he pushed himself away from the bar and strode toward the men’s room at the back of the restaurant.

Brenda fought the urge to go after him, finishing the last of her tequila instead. She was clearly going to be incapable of driving home.

She sighed and hitched her purse over her shoulder and slid off her stool. Suddenly the room began to swim around her and she reached out to steady herself, missed the bar and stumbled backward.

The now familiar scent of his cologne wafted over her as strong arms caught her, encircling her waist. Julio steadied her and she instinctively sank back into his embrace.

“I’ve got you Chief,” his mouth was close enough to her ear that she could feel his breath on her face and she felt a cramp of desire low in her belly. She twisted in his arms until her shoulder was pressed into his chest.

“I’m fine, Detective. Just a li’l unsteady getttin’ up.”

“Let me help you, M’am.”

“I can walk fine on my own, Julio. Thank you. And for heaven’s sake quite callin’ me M’am.”

She shook off his arm and took a step forward. The floor came spinning up toward her and suddenly his voice seemed far away.

“Don’t argue with me Chief.”

Brenda’s feet fell out from underneath her but instead of tumbling to the ground, she realized through the fog of tequila that Julio had effortlessly swept her into his arms. 

“Pu’me down,” she slurred and she struggled momentarily before surrendering.

“Forgive me, M’am, but it’s easier just to carry you.”

She allowed her body to relax and she tucked her head under his chin simply allowing herself to indulge in his scent, the hardness of his chest as she pressed into his side, how strangely secure  
she felt as he cradled her against him.

“Julio, stop wi’ the M’amin’ me,” she mumbled, her lips against his neck.

“Yes, Chief.”

She gave up then, with no idea where he was taking her, her tequila soaked brain registering images in flashes. A kitchen and then a set of narrow stairs. He climbed them effortlessly, even with  
her as extra weight. A long hallway and then he stopped, leaning against the doorframe, clamping her to him so as to free up one hand to reach out and turn a lever-style handle. He twisted sideways in order to swing her legs through without hitting the wall and then unceremoniously kicked the door closed behind them.

Brenda lifted her head and squinted, willing her eyes to focus. The light in the room was diffuse, radiating from a small lamp on a low table next to a plain double bed. Brenda could make out curtains so there had to be windows and she finally worked it out that they must be in a room above the restaurant.

“Julio, what’re we doin’?” Brenda turned her head, her lips just inches from his and she shifted her body so she could slide her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“You can’t drive, M’am. And neither can I,” his eyes were dark, unreadable, but his voice was guttural and laced with a desire he was clearly fighting. “You need to get some sleep, Chief.”

“I swear t’ God Julio Sanchez if y’call me M’am or Chief one more time tonight I’m gonna put y’on desk duty for at least a month.”

“Yes, M’am,” he replied reflexively.

And so she kissed him, hard, and for a fleeting moment his lips opened and he groaned against her mouth. She tasted tequila, longing, and she moaned back, deepening the kiss. 

Julio pulled away, turning his head so that Brenda’s mouth grazed across the hard stubble of his cheek. The roughness only spurred her on further and she wriggled in his arms, a low whine in the back of her throat.

He placed her gently on the bed, stilling her hands as they grabbed for him.

“You need to get some sleep,” he repeated, his eyes softening, “pequeno.”

“I dunno what that is but it souns better’n M’am,”

Brenda lay back on the bed, her limbs splayed, eyes heavy. Julio twitched a blanket over her as she tried desperately to stay awake.

“What about you? Where are y’ gonna sleep?”

He perched on the edge of the bed and reached out and brushed the curls out of her eyes, cupping her face with a tenderness she didn’t think was possible.

“I’ll take the chair,” he said softly.

She was about to protest but he had already leaned over and switched off the light, moving away from her in the darkness and she finally allowed herself to close her eyes.

“Pequeno,” she heard herself murmur as she spiralled down into sleep.


End file.
